


Gorgeous

by swanprincess



Series: Call It What You Want [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:44:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanprincess/pseuds/swanprincess
Summary: inspired by "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift





	1. Can't Say Anything to Your Face

It wasn’t the first time Arya flitted into the forge without being invited, or even announcing her presence. But it was the first time in a long time that she’d come in to find Gendry without a shirt beneath his apron. The last time was at Harrenhal, and that seemed so long ago that it was easy to pretend that it _hadn’t_ been the first time she’d gotten a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, and that she hadn’t been enraptured by his muscle-bound torso.

Now, as she took in the the sight in front of her, it was impossible to ignore the wetness pooling in her smallclothes, or to pretend that the oddly pleasant knot in her stomach was caused by anything but her best friend. Rivulets of sweat ran over his body, outlining the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders. He raised the heavy hammer above his head with ease, and the light of the setting sun caught his huge bicep in such a way that he looked as though he was made of bronze.

Arya wasn’t sure how long she stood there taking him in, mouth agape and eyes wide as saucers in awe of his rugged form before he sensed her presence and turned around.

“Hey Arr.” He greeted her with a pleasant grin. “Time for supper already?” Arya shut her mouth with a snap, flushed a bright head, and bobbed her head up and down.

“Are you alright? You look… odd.” He asked, concern clear in his voice. Arya shook herself and took a deep breath before answering.

“I’m fine. Just hot is all. I don’t know how you can stand working in the forge in this heat.” She managed, her voice sounding odd even to her. Gendry eyed her warily, clearly not convinced by her response, before shrugging and moving on.

“It’s even hotter in King’s Landing. I’m used to the heat, I don’t have ice in my blood like you.” He teased her. 

“That doesn’t even make sense. Ice in my blood would keep me cool in the heat.” She pointed out more snappishly than necessary. Gendry rolled his eyes at her and began untying his apron.

“Excuse me for not being as educated as milady.” He grumbled as he fumbled with the knot. Arya was just about to yell at him for calling her by that annoying title when he took the apron off.

She thought her eyes might pop out of her head. If the muscles on his back had dampened her smallclothes, it was nothing compared to the flow of wetness that came from the sight of his pecs and well-muscled abdomen. Just as she thought she might start drooling, Gendry’s voice jolted her back to reality.

“Arya? Are you alright? You just got all flushed again.” The concern was back in his voice, but luckily the stupid bull didn’t seem to realize that it was his state of undress that was affecting her.

“I’m perfectly fine. Come on, all the food will be gone if you keep dillydallying.” And with that, Arya left the forge. She managed to keep her steps even and measured on her way back to the inn, but instead of entering she went around to the back and leaned against the cool stone wall.

Finally away from Gendry and the smothering heat of the forge, Arya was able to take a deep breath in. _Seven hells._ She wasn’t supposed to be so affected by a boy, least of all _Gendry._ He was her best friend, she was _supposed_ to feel perfectly comfortable around him, not… _aroused._ Checking to see if anyone was nearby, she lightly brushed her fingers over where her swollen clit was clothed by her breeches. She had to bite her lip to keep the moan from escaping her throat.

After the scene in the forge, it wouldn’t take her long to reach her peak. She’d been touching herself since shortly after the first time she’d felt the wetness on her thighs, and had gotten quite good at bringing herself to climax.

Needing release, Arya ran off into the woods, stopping as soon as she felt she was far enough from the inn. She stopped much closer than she normally would have, but she was desperate to finish off what that stupid bastard had unwittingly started.

She more or less collapsed at the foot of a broad tree, and hardly bothering to loosen the ties of her breeches, slipped her right hand into her smallclothes. The first brush of her dexterous fingers against her slick lips had her shuddering with pleasure. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she began to trace the outline of her lower lips, spreading the dewy moisture up to her hooded clit. She bit her upper lip again at the shiver that went up her spine, and plunged her middle finger into her tight cunt, rubbing tight circles on her clit with her thumb.

It wasn’t enough. Frowning, Arya added her index finger to her core and fingered herself more quickly, increasing the pressure of her thumb on her clit. Still missing something, she brought her left hand up to her breasts, squeezing them hard and roughly pinching and twisted her nipples through the coarse fabric of her tunic. She let her mind wander back to the forge, to the smell of soot and salt, and the sweat dripping down Gendry’s god-like body.

Then, her mind went down a path of it’s own. She imagined Gendry’s hand instead of her on her breast, of Gendry’s work-roughened fingers in place of her own in her cunt. She could practically see his ocean-blue eyes boring into her, gazing at her with lust and need as he finger-fucked her.

And Arya Stark came harder than she ever had before.

Her back arched away from the rough bark of the tree, and she struggled to keep the pace she needed as he body convulsed with her orgasm. She felt another wave of juices rush over the fingers still deep inside her, and squeezed her breast so hard in her ecstasy that she wouldn’t be surprised to find finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

It took her a few minutes to stop panting after riding out her orgasm, and still longer before she realized where her mind had taken her. _She had thought of Gendry. Gendry! She had imagined Gendry fucking Waters’ face when she came._ Arya let out an irritated groan. This was not good.


	2. Take It As a Compliment

Gendry was at a complete loss. Arya had been acting oddly the past few days. And no one he dared ask about it seemed to have any idea why. First she had shown up at the forge last week all red-faced, then, after stuttering in an entirely un-Arya-like manner, she had disappeared into the woods for several minutes before reappearing at dinner like nothing even happened. He blamed her head start for the fact that he’d been unable to find her, but knew that the real reason was not only that she was faster than him, but also that if Arya Stark didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be.

When she resurfaced at dinner that evening she seemed perfectly normal. That is, until Gendry attempted to speak to her. She ignored him, seemingly not noticing that he was there at all. What made it even odder was how chatty she was with the rest of the men, especially since she usually only spoke to him. It was beyond strange.

To make matters even more confusing, tonight she had gotten into her cups- something that was very un-Arya-like in and of itself- and began to speak to him again, but only to tease him mercilessly about his accent, and the unique phrases he used. If it was anyone but Arya, he would have assumed she was making fun of him for his lowbirth and bastard standing, but the way she was speaking made it clear the distinction she was making was one of northern vs southern status, not highbirth and lowbirth.

When she finally announced she was going to bed, Alerie, the innkeepers daughter, attempted to help her, but she batted away the older girl’s hands and stumbled towards the door. She’d been uncharacteristically cold to Alerie this past week. Gendry tried to make up for Arya’s rude behavior by being kinder to the girl himself, but that only seemed to make Arya scowl harder.

“I’ll help her. It’s time I get off to bed myself.” Gendry offered, rising from the table himself and crossing the darkened room to join Arya. He didn’t trust the other men to keep away from such a pretty girl, and in her current state Arya could hardly defend herself. He’d long ago taken up the role of her protector, although she’d probably kill him if she ever heard him refer to himself as such.

“Come on Arry, this way.” He reached out to guide her, but had hardly touched her hand when she snatched it away as though he’d burned her.

“I can manage perfectly well by myself, thank you.” She snapped at him, a familiar fiery sparkle in her somewhat dulled eyes. Gendry sighed.

“You can barely stand m’lady. Just let me accompany you to your chamber.” He suggested, but Arya frowned at him.

“I can too stand!” She argued. “Stop irritating me and go back to drinking and ogling Alerie with the rest of that lot.” She grumbled angrily, a note of something else in her voice. _It couldn’t be jealousy, could it?_ Alerie was a pretty enough girl, but she didn’t hold a candle to Arya’s casual beauty. He’d never seen anyone so gorgeous as the silver-eyed, dark-haired, fierce little girl.

Arya made a move to leave, and Gendry tried once more to follow her, only to receive a shove from the heel of her hand against his chest.

“Leave me be Gendry.” She growled. “I don’t want you.” She insisted angrily, before she turned on her heel and stalked off. It took Gendry took a few moments to huff dramatically before following her.

 _Fine._ He would just follow and make sure she was safe and sound inside the Brotherhood’s shared room then stand guard outside the door until he was sure she was asleep and wouldn’t assault him, verbally or physically.

In her haste to get into the room and away from him, Arya had managed to slam the door so hard that it bounced back open about six inches, allowing Gendry a perfect view of the the area Arya often slept in. Only she didn’t look as though she was trying to sleep now.

For a brief second Gendry almost went barreling into the room, sure that Arya was in the throes of some sort of epileptic fit from drinking too much. Then a cloud moved and moonlight lit up her face. Her expression of pure pleasure froze Gendry’s feet to the spot and sent all of the blood in his body to his cock. No. _No._ He could not be watching Arya Stark of Winterfell _touching herself._ He didn’t even know ladies _did_ that. But the way her hand was working under her loosened britches, coupled with the writhing movement of her hips was unmistakable.

As soon as Gendry regained control of _some_ of his senses, shame flooded through him as he realized that _he should not be watching this._ It was wrong, it was a private moment and she was his better and- oh gods was she groping her own breasts? He knew he should look away, but he couldn’t force his body to leave, go back to the rest of the men in the pub and drink until he forgot what he had just seen.

He watched in stunned silence as Arya continued with her ministrations, and was (shamefully) rather disappointed when she reached her peak within just a few minutes. The most disappointing part was that she’d made hardly a noise the whole time, save a few gasps here and there. The image of Arya in the throes of an orgasm, her eyes shut tightly and her lip caught firmly between her teeth, would be etched in Gendry’s memory forever.

He continued to stand there, completely frozen, for who knows how long. When Arya’s breathing returned to normal, she simply wiped her hand on the outside of her blanket, then pulled it around so that part was far from her face and curled up under it. Her face was a perfect mask of serene satisfaction, and Gendry was transfixed. He kept watching her as the rise and fall of her chest became even, signalling her falling asleep.

It wasn’t until Gendry heard someone at the end of the hallway that he jolted alert and entered the room, est it be someone from his party that was curious as to why he had spent the last several minutes in the hallway when he’d told everyone he was heading to bed.

He tiptoed to his usual place, just a few feet from Arya, and gazed down at the Northern beauty. In the years since he’d met her, she’d grown into a beautiful young woman, and it was always a (failed) struggle to keep her from his mind whenever he took himself in hand. She was his best friend, and besides that she thought of him like a brother. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been speaking to him as much of late, she was still the closest thing he had to a family, and he wasn’t about to ruin that by thinking salacious thoughts about her. Or at least, he was going to try his damnedest not to.

Gendry laid down on his pallet beside her, trying desperately to think of anything but the girl sleeping beside him. He tried to sleep, but every time he shut his eyes he saw her face as a mask of pleasure, her lip red and swollen from being bitten, her hands roughly grasping at her breasts. His cock was at full attention, and nothing he tried to make it go away would work. There was only one solution, and Gendry knew it wasn’t exactly what one would call a moral one.

Sure, Gendry had taken himself in hand loads of times, but never when anyone else was in the room, and _certainly_ not when Arya was anywhere near him. Usually he would just sneak off into the woods, trying desperately to think of anything but Arya and failing miserably.

Checking to be sure she was really asleep, Gendry slowly started to untie his breeches. He was about to free his cock, when he remembered her wiping her hand on her blankets and froze.

 _No._ He tried to tell himself. _That is beyond improper._ He ignored his own chidings and found himself stealthily crawling over to the edge of her blanket where she had wiped her juices, dipping his head down, and inhaling. He almost came then and there. Her scent inundated his senses, so intoxicatingly earthy and fragrant and _her._ He pressed his face into the blanket to smell her more deeply, but then Arya stirred in her sleep and Gendry launched himself back over to his own pallet, freezing in a panic and pretending to be asleep until he was sure that Arya hadn’t awoken.

Knowing it was wrong, and that he was proving what everyone said was true about bastards being lust-filled, moral-lacking perverts, Gendry pulled his cock from his breeches and took himself in hand. His tip was already leaking pre-cum, and he used it as lubricant to ease the movement of his hand on his thick shaft. Closing his eyes, the image of Arya’s face immediately came up. He was almost grateful that she had been clothed, because he wasn’t sure that he could quite handle seeing her naked. Even what he had seen was nearly too much.

He imagined it was her hand wrapped around his cock, imagined his own hands groping her breasts and twisting her nipples, imagined that it was _him_ who made her bite her lip and come apart like that. After just a few strokes, Gendry reached his climax, and spurted thick ropes of his seed across his stomach and chest. He had already been so close before he even started that it was no surprise to him that he lasted such a short amount of time. In fact, he was thankful for it, given that the door t the communal chamber opened to let in two or three other men just as he finished wiping his cum off of his abdomen with his tunic.

He sighed into the darkness as the other men settled on the pallets a good distance from him. He hadn’t been able to get Arya out of his head _before_ , but now… this girl would be the death of him.


	3. You've Ruined My Life

“Arya, bring Gendry some supper.” Tom ordered, gesturing to the table which still held enough remnants to make up a decent meal.

“Why do _I_ have to do it?” Arya whined, her arms folded in front of her chest. She could hardly keep herself away from Gendry as it was- he had some kind of magnetism that always pulled her in, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. She didn’t need people forcing her to spend even more time with him.

“Because Tom said so.” Lem grunted between swigs of beer.

“Because I have to play and you’re the only one steady on your feet.” Tom corrected. “Besides, I thought you two were friends.” He added the last part with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“We _are_ friends.” Arya huffed angrily. “I just don’t see why I have to go out tramping to the forge in the dark. Why can’t he just eat in here like everyone else?”

“Because you forgot to fetch him from the forge today silly.” Tom reminded her. Of course, Arya hadn’t _forgotten._ No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget Gendry, not even for a second.

“And why exactly is that my responsibility? We eat supper at the same time every day, you’d think the stupid bull would be able to figure that out and come inside at a reasonable time.” Tom grinned a little too broadly at that.

“Aye, I suppose all that’s true. However, given that the boy _has_ been working all day…” He gestured to the table, and a scowling Arya started throwing a plate together as Tom began a rousing version of “No Featherbed for Me.” The singer even had the audacity to wink at Arya as she left.

She meant to just drop the plate and leave. She really did. But then she caught sight of the way the sheen of sweat on his muscles gleamed in the firelight, and stood transfixed, watching him like an empty headed little fool.

“What do you want?” Gendry grunted when he finally stopped his work. Arya scowled.

“Tom wanted me to bring you dinner.” She pointed to the plate she had placed on the table.

“Well, you’ve brought it, haven’t you?” His gorgeous blue eyes looked angry, which made no sense at all to Arya. _She_ was the one who should be furious at _him_ , for making her want him when he knew she couldn’t have him. Not only was it painfully obvious that Gendry could get any girl he wanted, but they both knew the Brotherhood and anyone else who knew her identity would throw a fit if they ever got together, and then they would be separated, and after losing so much Arya couldn’t bear the thought of losing Gendry too.

“A thank you may be in order. I did have to come out here since you refuse to eat inside like a normal person.” Arya spat. Gendry rolled his eyes.

“ _Thank you_ milady, forgive me for being ever so rude. It was so kind of you, give that you’ve hardly stayed within five feet of me lately.” He mocked her. Arya narrowed her eyes. As if it was her fault she couldn’t be close to him without being nearly overcome with the urge to jump his bones. Arya forced a sickeningly sweet smile onto her face.

“I only wanted to give you space, given that you’ve been so smitten over pretty little Alerie lately. Didn’t want to walk in on anything.” She growled through gritted teeth. The look of confusion that paced Gendry’s face seemed real, but then again the stupid bull almost always looked confused anyways, so it was hard to tell.

“Alerie is why you’ve been avoiding me?” He asked, taking a step towards her. Arya scowled.

“I haven’t been _avoiding_ you. I just-”

“Have suddenly developed an extreme aversion to the forge?” Gendry raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing her. Arya’s scowl deepened, and she took what she hoped looked like a menacing step forward, hands on her hips.

“Well _you’re_ the one who wouldn’t even look at me a fortnight ago! What the hell was that all about?” Gendry opened and closed his mouth like a dumb fish before his hard expression returned and he took another step towards her.

“You started avoiding me even before that! Don’t turn this around on me!”

“Well it isn’t _my_ fault!”

“It is too, you started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

In their shouting at each other they had somehow come chest to chest, their faces only inches from each other. Arya was never sure who moved first, but suddenly her lips were crashing against Gendry’s. She had one hand on his shoulder and the other fisting his thick black hair, pulling him down so she could kiss him more easily. Gendry had one hand dangerously low on her back, and the other tangled tightly in her curly locks.

It was a perfect moment. It felt right. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and when Arya opened her mouth for Gendry’s tongue it only seemed to get even better. Letting out a low whine deep in her throat, Arya pushed her hips flush against Gendry’s. Gendry responded in kind, pulling her more tightly against him with the hand on her waist as their tongues battled it out, and they nipped at each other’s lips. It wasn’t until Arya started to grind her hips against his, desperate to create some friction, that Gendry pulled away.

Actually, pushed her away was more accurate.

“Oh fuck Arya.” He panted. He brought his hand up as if he were about to trace her swollen lips, then thought better of it and moved it in front of his own mouth as though to cover it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Arya gaped at him. Sorry? He was _sorry?_ Was this some kind of a stupid jape? Did he think he could just kiss her like that and erase it with a stupid, useless _sorry?_ Looking at him as though he had slapped her, Arya mouthed the word ‘sorry’ back to him before turning on her heel to flee the forge to (hopefully) die of embarrassment.

“Arya!” Gendry was calling after her, but she didn’t look back as she ran into the forest behind the inn.


End file.
